


The Dirty Pot Quarrel

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Domestics, F/M, Fluff, Pete's World, Romance, The Doctor is a spoiled brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 18:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16560668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They were supposed to be a team — even in domesticity — and he’d failed her.





	The Dirty Pot Quarrel

The Doctor tugged at the mess of hair on his head, pacing around the sofa for the thousandth time. Rose had left ages ago. And he wasn’t sure if she would ever come back. Not that he’d blame her if she didn’t. She deserved better. Not him. Not the huge git that he was. The giant, blundering arse. 

They were supposed to be a team — even in domesticity — and he’d failed her.

It wasn’t her fault that he felt slowly suffocated by the monotony of human life. Wash the dishes. That’s all she asked. An uncomplicated five minutes of suds and water. But it was one tedious task too many that day. So, he — the Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds — had thrown a temper tantrum over a sponge.

He’d yelled at her. There was  _ never _ an excuse to yell at Rose.  _ Ever.  _ His stomach churned as he recalled the confusion and hurt in her eyes. The tinge of betrayal when he’d belittled all of humanity for being so inferior that they hadn’t conjured up a way to more efficiently sanitize their cutlery. It wasn’t Rose’s fault he was a spoiled brat, accustomed to the Tardis magically cleaning up behind him.

It wasn’t really the dishes. That was a pathetic excuse. He’d been bottling every emotion in his chest since Bad Wolf Bay. His own insecurities for no longer being full Time Lord. His confusion over his new world. Worrying he’d never fit in properly. Fretting he had nothing to offer Rose without a Tardis. Dreading the day he cocked it all up, idiot that he was, and she left for greener pastures.

He hoped with every fibre of his being that today was not that day. The constant vacuuming and dusting may be driving him barmy, but he’d  _ never _ survive this life without her.

After circuiting the living room for over an hour, waiting for Rose to return, his worst fears boiled over. Where had she gone? Had she left him for good? Even if she did, was she ok? Had she run into trouble? What if she had and he wasn’t with her? Some alien with a grudge could have crossed her path and she had  _ no  _ way to call for help; her mobile was on the counter.

Horrified, the Doctor snatched his keys off the table and bolted for the door. He roughly twisted the knob and pulled—

And found Rose standing on the front step, crying.

“M’sorry,” she immediately blubbered.

The keys slipped through his fingers as he gathered her through the door and into his eager arms. “No,  _ I’m _ sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“D’you want to… leave?” she mumbled, voice breaking on the final word.

“No!” Horrified she would think such a thing, he pulled back an inch to meet her eye. “ _ No _ . Not ever.”

“But you’re so unhap—”

“I’m not, Rose, I’m really not. I’m just…” He sighed heavily. “I’m… adjusting. I’ve never had to remember to wash my pants before. Don’t suppose I could buy a pair every day? Although, I’d rather not drive us into bankruptcy over soiled undergarments.” 

She sniffed and huffed a laugh. “You could just go starkers.”

“Nah. Think of the chafing!” He smiled tentatively and pressed a light kiss on her tear-soaked lips. “I’m sorry I threw a fit over a few dishes. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, too.” Her small grin stretched wider.

Relieved he hadn’t driven her away, the Doctor crushed Rose to his chest once more, vowing to never be the cause of her tears again. He knew they needed to have a longer conversation, about the true reason he had lashed out at her but, for now, she was safe in arms. And she still loved him, even though he didn’t feel worthy of it.

“You know,” Rose said, words muffled in the fabric of his suit, “we could make it a game. See who can do them the fastest? Ten quid says you take twice as long as me.”

“Oh, yes!” The Doctor’s spirits lifted and he dropped his arms in favor of twining their fingers together. “Leave it to you, Rose Tyler, to make dirty pots and pans an adventure!”

She laughed loudly as the he hauled her into the kitchen. His new goal in life was to prove to her that there was nowhere he’d rather be. That he’d happily dust. Whistle a tune while folding pants. Go to the shops with nary a whine. So long as she kept her hand in his.

 


End file.
